


Bonds of Blood

by Raufnir



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Netflix Castlevania
Genre: Multi, dhampir!Prompto, hunter!Gladio, let's see where this takes us, this started off as an idea on Tumblr and grew into this monstrosity, vampire!Ignis, vampire!Noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raufnir/pseuds/Raufnir
Summary: Gladiolus Amicitia's family has long fought creatures of the night, but after trying to make peace with King Regis, the Amicitias were excommunicated and persecuted. In searching the undercity of Insomnia with his friend and Speaker, Crowe, Gladio discovers a weakened vampire recovering from grievous injuries. Will he aid them in their goal to kill the ancient vampire Iedolas, or will he turn on them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a mad idea on Tumblr and grew into a monstrous thing. I hope you enjoy it anyway! This first part is a long one, and I hope there'll be more to come at some point.

**Some backstory on the characters just to get you going...**

**Ignis** : a couple of centuries old. Went into a healing slumber when Regis went into a rage after Iedolas tried to kill his son and succeeded in killing the queen, Aulea. Regis disappeared, whereabouts unknown. Aulea loved Ignis like a son, and encouraged him to teach Noctis and take care of him. In Regis’ absence, Iedolas has begun to ravage the land, using his human-vampire hybrids (dhampir) as cannon-fodder. Ignis is woken before he is completely healed, his face scarred, his eyes weak, by Gladio and Crowe, a hunter and a speaker. Ignis moves and speaks with impeccable elegance and grace (think Rai (Noblesse), or even Kaname Kuran (Vampire Knight) despite his injuries.

 **Gladio** : comes from a long line of vampire and monster hunters. His father tried to strike up a peace with Regis, and was murdered by the church for it, thus excommunicating his family. He likes to drink, and Crowe occasionally has to scrape him up off the floor after one too many whiskies and bar fights gone wrong. He drinks because he’s in a lot of pain, mentally, and there’s a void he can’t seem to fill inside himself. Crowe sees this, and knows its partly because of the anger and guilt he feels after the church burned his mother and father at the stake for trying to learn more about science from the vampires so she could heal and make the world a better place.

 **Iris** : is also a hunter, but Gladio is terrified something will happen to her, so he encourages her to stay in Lestallum where there are fewer dhampir thanks to the bright lights. She still does hunts in the surrounding area, and she’s totally badass.

 **Noctis** : son of Regis, and grudging ally of Gladio, though he mostly keeps to himself in the castle of his father. He’s very lonely without Ignis, who he sees as the brother he never had, and spends a lot of his time asleep in his coffin. Doesn’t eat properly without Ignis there to ensure he feeds regularly.

 **Prompto** : dhampir who was snuck out of Iedolas’ incubation facilities and raised by a very low ranking vampire couple. Spent a lot of time on his own, learning about his body, what it can do and what it needs that’s different from vampires, figuring stuff out on his own. Dhampir are pack/coven orientated vampires and he is touch starved and isolated. Tries to remain cheerful despite everything.

 

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“Shit, Gladio,” Crowe whistled, leaning back against a column, breathing hard. “The _hell_ was that?”

Gladio cast his amber eyes over the fallen creature in front of him and drew his sword from its ruined eyeball. With a gut-twisting squish, it pulled free. “Cyclops,” he growled. “Turns you to stone, and feeds on your terror while you’re encased inside.” He wiped his blade on the tattered cloak of a dead Speaker not far away and added, “Still think your messiah is down here?”

“Something has to be,” she said, pushing her lean body away from the column and stalking off through the hazy blue lights and shadows. “They wouldn’t leave something like that down here for no reason…”

Gladio narrowed his eyes. “Crowe, you can’t be serious. I know you Speakers have long memories, but, fuck, this is suicide.”

“I thought you said you didn’t care about dying?” she called archly, now consumed by the deepest shadows of the chamber.

With another growl, he jogged after her. “I don’t, but I’m not gonna just throw my life away. If I die, I wanna die killing something worthwhile, not falling through crumbling cracks in the undercity and breaking my neck!”

He heard her shrug in the darkness. “Any chance you could cast a light spell or something?” he grouched.

“You _want_ a fuckton of dhampir to come swarming out of the woodwork?” she asked, voice dripping with acid sarcasm.

“At least I’d see em coming,” he grumbled. “There won’t be any this far inside Lucis. Even Iedolas hasn’t gotten that bold yet.”

Crowe had just summoned a ball of light between her fingers when the world tilted with a sickening rumble, and the floor beneath their feet caved. Gladio’s back collided with a girder and he ricocheted off it, landing face down on a huge, slowly revolving wheel. Winded and dazed, he lay there a moment, trying to force his ribcage to re-inflate. Wheezing, he called, “Crowe? You ok? Where are you?”

With a rush of air, she shot up to the gear and landed next to him. “No time for a nap, Gladio,” she grinned. She was dirty and a cut was bleeding sluggishly on her forehead, but she looked alright. “I don’t fancy living the rest of my life as a hamster on this wheel,” she said, soles of her boots slipping a little as it tipped inexorably downwards. “You got any bright ideas, hunter?”

Unhooking his long whip, he flailed it, feeling it catch around a girder a little way off. Giving it a hard tug to check that rust hadn’t eaten through the metal, he jerked his chin at it, and she understood. Crowe was strong for a Speaker, not your average scholar, and, one hand at a time, she swung over the bottomless precipice. Gladio’s weight, however, swinging over the void once she was safely on the other side, was too much for the rotting metal, and it crumbled the moment he landed on the girder below.

“Oh for God’s sake,” he sighed as the whole structure caved amid a clanging and ringing loud enough to wake the most ancient of vampires from their eternal slumber.

It was a miracle that they survived the fall and didn’t get crushed, let alone were able to stagger to their feet after the debris had finished thundering to the ground around them. Blinking, coughing in the billowing dust, the Speaker and the hunter exchanged a look and then Gladio sighed. “Come on.”

The area they had broken through into was completely different from the dripping, corroding gears and wheels of mechanica above them. A red carpet threaded with gold lined the floor, though it was damp and now covered in assorted crap from the undercity above, and the walls were smooth-faced stone, even plastered in places. Mysterious, ever-burning lamps illuminated the length of the chamber, and, when their eyes landed on the contraption at the far end, their lips fell open in a synchronised duet.

“Is that…?” Crowe breathed.

Gladio stared. An enormous tank of blood, just over half full, with another completely full beside it, fed into what was unmistakably a coffin, stone, trimmed with gold, simple and yet exquisitely made. A huge glass bell maintained optimum air pressure, and the whole thing sat on a dais at the far end. “It’s a noble’s coffin. Looks like they weren’t planning on waking for a while though. Look at all that blood…”

Crowe shivered.

Gladio narrowed his eyes and strode over to the coffin, intending to get a closer look at the intricate gold-work which threaded over the lid, perhaps finding a clue to who might be inside before he staked them. With a click and a dip in pressure, Gladio froze, mid step. A pressure plate. He had triggered a pressure plate with his big old clumsy boot.

Crowe shot him a look.

“I didn’t do that,” he deadpanned, already readying himself for a fight.

 With a hiss of hydraulics, the coffin lid shifted, and then slid clean off, the boom when it hit the floor resonating in Gladio’s ear drums as much as off the rest of the marble work in the chamber.

Horrifyingly slowly, a figure began to rise from within. Emaciated, skin pale as the stone around him, chest bare and horribly scarred, ashen hair flowing long down his back, the vampire hovered, suspended like a corpse on a gibbet before them. When he had emerged, his arms had been crossed in the vampire’s typical position of repose, but one now fell away into a mockery of a bow, his head flopping forward, face covered by shadow and loose-falling hair.

He gleamed in the half light of the strange torches, and Gladio’s eyes were wide. He was _beautiful_. “Why are you here?” the creature demanded, his voice low, hoarse with long disuse, but his accent was old and refined as a leather bound book of poetry. He did not look up.

“The story,” Crowe whispered, unable to help herself. “The messiah sleeps under Insomnia… The man who will save us from Iedolas.”

The vampire twitched at that, looking almost like he was mustering the strength for a derisive laugh, but somehow couldn’t quite manage it. “And you?” he asked, turning to Gladio, tone sour as old wine. “Are you in search of a mythical saviour?”

“I fell down a hole,” Gladio smirked, his confidence returning the longer he looked at the weakened, injured vampire. Though he wished he’d raise his head so he could see his face behind all that shadow and hair.

“Iedolas is abroad in the land,” Crow interrupted, her tone rich with the urgency of someone truly desperate. “He has an army of monsters. He’s determined to wipe out all human life wherever he finds it.”

The vampire hissed, fist clenching at the news. That made Gladio wonder. He turned to Gladio and asked, “Is that what _you_ believe?” fangs flashing silver in the low light behind the curtain of hair.

“That Iedolas has released his horde in Lucis? That’s fact. There’s no “belief” involved.” His tone was sharp, angry, and brutal as a broadsword. “But that’s not what you’re asking.”

“No.”

Gladio glared up at the vampire, still hanging there in space, and sneered, “You’re asking if I believe you’re some sleeping messiah who’ll save us, and no, I don’t.”

“Amicitia,” Crowe snapped. She knew he was baiting the vampire.

“I know what you are,” he snarled at the half-naked vampire.

The creature’s lips curled into a soft smile, dangerous as a phial of poison. “And what am I?” he asked in a silk-smooth voice.

“You’re a _vampire_ ,” Gladio spat.

And then he raised his face slowly to the light.

Crowe gasped and took half a step back, and even Gladio faltered. Vampires were beautiful. All of them, in their own, supernatural way, but this one was scarred, damaged, and the wounds on his face still looked raw, though the scar tissue was old.

A huge, ragged scar covered his left eye, like the flesh had been ripped away and was still growing over, another slashed the bridge of his nose, while a third and forth bisected his lips and right eyebrow. His eyes though, instead of the bright, burning lights he expected in the faces of vampires, they were misty, as though veiled by cataracts, or damaged long ago in some act of horrifying brutality. With his face, which still hid the framework of beauty behind the injuries, tilted upwards, he smiled dangerously, not looking directly at them, fangs flashing.

Could he even see? “So, I have to ask myself,” Gladio went on, brows set, eyes hard, “Have we come down here to wake up the man who’ll kill Iedolas, or did we come here to wake something just as bad?”

“You call me as bad as him?” he asked, gently lowering himself towards the floor, head proud, arms hanging with a tense readiness by his sides, his chest bare, showing more scars as he approached.

“I’ll call you anything you like if you’re gonna show me your teeth,” Gladio said sarcastically, lip curling.

His feet didn’t touch the red carpet as he hung in the air above it, but he opened his fingers, as though summoning a blade. Gladio readied himself, but the vampire just kept talking. “She called you Amicitia. House of Amicitia?”

“Gladiolus Amicitia,” he said, tone heavy as a two-handed axe. “Last son of the House of Amicitia.”

“The Amicitias fought creatures of the night, did they not? For generations,” he asked quickly, the hard edge to his words making Gladio’s skin crawl.

Gladio and Crowe exchanged wary looks. “Say what you mean,” Gladio said as he strode towards him, patience wearing thin as the rug beneath his feet.

“Amicitias killed vampires,” their mystery creature of the night said, ear tracking Gladio as he moved, though he didn’t turn his eyes to him. Gladio decided he definitely couldn’t see, or at least, it was too difficult to make them out with the contrast of bright lights and deep shadows.

“Until the _good people_ decided they didn’t want us around,” Gladio said bitterly. “And now Iedolas is carrying out an execution order on the human race.”

“Do you care, _Amicitia_?” the vampire asked, turning slightly as Gladio wheeled slowly around him.

Gladio stopped, footsteps halting in their strange, courtly dance, while the vampire hung there like a spectre. His head dropped and he sighed. “Honestly, I didn’t, no. But now…” he raised his head and glared fiercely at the vampire. “Yes, it’s time to stop it.”

Crowe beamed at him but the vampire wasn’t done. “Do you think you can?” he asked. His voice was deep, but something about it drew Gladio a step closer to him. He was dangerous, deadly as a snake, but…

Gladio growled at himself for letting the creature pull him in the way they all did. “What I think… is I’m going to have to kill you,” he said, hand resting on his consecrated whip.

“Amicitia, no!” Crowe cried, hands going wide with astonishment. “He’s the one we’ve been waiting for!”

“No, he’s not,” Gladio scoffed. “He’s a vampire. And he’s not been waiting here for hundreds of years, have you?” he asked, eyeing the half full vat of blood.

“I don’t like your tone, Amicitia,” he said, voice dropping in pitch, smooth and deadly as silk over steel.

“This place is old, but it’s not been abandoned,” Gladio went on. “It’s alive and working. So go on, _vampire_ , tell her _exactly_ how long you’ve been waiting down here.”

The vampire’s eyes may have been dead, but his chiselled face was expressive enough. “What is the year of your Lord?” he asked her. On hearing the answer, he continued. “Perhaps a year then.”

“There,” Gladio said, gesturing grandly. “And on top of that, what kind of messiah creates mechanical death traps to buy himself an uninterrupted nap in a _stone coffin_?”

“My defences were not for you,” he fired quickly.

“You could have told your defences that,” Gladio barked.

His rapid retort seemed to draw an impromptu smile from the vampire, but he continued to speak in his quick, dry voice. “They are machines, nothing more. They were not intended to protect me from you.” His tone grew even harder, honed to a point as he snapped, “I asked you a question – do you _care_?”

“I _care_ about doing my family’s work. I care about saving human lives.” He paused, eying him up. “Am I going to have to kill you?”

A light burned strangely in his face, those veiled eyes laughing, mocking, intrigued. “Do you think you can?” the vampire asked, with obvious interest in his answer. “If you’re really an Amicitia, and not some runt running around with the family crest, you might be able to.” His finger twitched and a pair of daggers which had been resting idly on a nearby chair rattled. “Even like this, I’ll still be a match for you though.” The daggers whirled through the air, sliding into his grip in a flash. His stance seemed relaxed, but he was ready, coiled, waiting. “Let’s find out.”

“Amicitia, you can’t do this!” Crowe called.

“Tell it to your floating vampire Jesus here,” Gladio snarled, uncoiling the whip at his belt.

“You’ve got nothing but insults, have you?” the vampire laughed. “A tired little –”

The crack from Gladio’s whip caught him right across his scarred chest, sending him flying backwards. He broke the fall and skidded, taking a moment to recover. He turned his face up, hissing, canines deadly as the daggers in his hands.

With a final insult, the fight began. Gladio’s whip lashed wildly, and the vampire’s blades deflected it. Crowe tried to call out to them, but they ignored her, too wrapped up in their own dance of death, trading insults and quips between the blows. After the vampire dodged the flashing blade Gladio flung at him, a second later the whip caught him full in the face and he fell from the air like a downed hawk. He took longer than Gladio expected to right himself, grunting with the effort, but as Gladio unleashed his whip again, the blades caught it, and it tangled around them. The vampire yanked him forwards, but Gladio let go of it, drawing his own sword from the scabbard at his belt.

Then the real test began.

Gladio couldn’t believe the vampire, weakened and blind as he was, could be so fast. With one blade held tauntingly behind his back, the vampire fenced with Gladio, shorter blade matching Gladio’s powerful strokes blow for blow, sparks spraying.

When the vampire’s form flickered, blinking from one place to another, Gladio let out a bellow of rage and surprise. Ears straining as the vampire vanished again, he swung his blade around, only to find it met by steel. The vampire had turned on him, no longer toying with him, advancing, forcing him back towards the treacherous edge of the dais with each step.

Gladio growled, gritting his teeth, using his enormous strength as the vampire held his blade at bay with one hand. Slowly, with the inexorable determination of a glacier, Gladio rose to his feet and began to grind his blade into the vampire’s. Eventually, much to Gladio’s satisfaction, the vampire had to use his other hand as well to fend off the hunter’s blade.

Cornered, and unable to think of a way out, Gladio brought his knee to the vampire’s groin. The creature didn’t even flinch. “Please. This isn’t a bar fight,” he drawled, beautiful face terrible with its impassive features, blind eyes staring straight through him, ash grey hair falling around his shoulders. “Have some class.”

Gladio’s blow from a balled fist caught him in the open wound in his side and he cried out in pain before dealing Gladio such a vicious backhand that he flew right across the chamber, landing heavily on his back with a blow that rattled his brains. The vampire launched himself at Gladio and the fight picked up again.

Sweat ran into Gladio’s eye but he ignored the acid pain of it, dodging spearing daggers and blows that could have ended his life in seconds, panting hard. He was pleased to see that the vampire was at least out of breath too.

Rallying his strength for one final blow, he slashed wildly at the creature’s torso. The force of the swing broke his blade, but with a terrible anger in his face, the vampire stood over him, a new wound on his bare chest, blood running freely. But it was his awful snarl, those bared teeth, those crazed eyes, white like a shark’s, which sent a thrill of terror through Gladio.

He was going to die.

But hell, he was not going alone.

The vampire read the emotion in him as though he could see, but the blow which the creature dealt him with his clenched fist stunned Gladio a second time. The creature was on him, yanking his hair back, teeth going for his carotid, hissing and spitting in boiling rage. “Do you have a god to put a last prayer to, Amicitia,” he smiled.

Despite his situation, Gladio chuckled. “Yeah. Dear God, please don’t let the vampire’s guts ruin my good tunic.”

The vampire clearly hadn’t expected that. “What?” he began, but his question was cut off as a short throwing knife began to inch its way through skin and muscle towards his heart, and he gasped. “I can still rip your throat out,” he said, leaning close, ignoring the pain as the blade deepened.

“You can, but it won’t stop me staking you,” Gladio grinned.

“But you will still die.”

“But I don’t care,” he breathed. The emptiness in his tone filled the room. “Killing you was the point. Living through it was just a luxury.”

The vampire’s grip on his hair loosened and he dipped his head and laughed. It was a softer sound now. Gone was the malice and the danger. He truly was delighted.

The soft rush of a kindling flame behind him cut him off, and he turned his ear.

“I will incinerate you before your fangs touch that man’s throat,” Crowe purred, hand extended, spark glimmering threateningly between her fingers.

The vampire turned slightly, ear tracking the fire, and said bitterly, “I thought I was your _legendary saviour_?”

“So did I,” she countered. “But _he_ saved my life.”

“You’re a Speaker-Magician,” he said, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Yes. And his goal is mine. To stand up for the people.”

The vampire turned away from her, back to Gladio, fingers still in his hair, although he was no longer holding him tightly. “Good,” he murmured, fangs flashing as his lips played slowly over them. “Very good.” He closed his blind eyes. “A vampire hunter and a magician.” He inched backwards off the blade, blood running freely, the ferrous stink of it filling the air.

Gladio watched in astonishment at the fresh wounds sealed up while he rose to his feet. “I am Ignis Scientia,” he announced. “I was advisor to the King of Lucian vampires, to King Regis. I’ve been asleep here in my private keep under Insomnia for a year, to heal the wounds dealt by my king when I attempted to stop him from making an act of open war on Iedolas.” He sighed. “For the failed assassination of his son, Noctis.” He breathed gently, hand on the huge, older scar on his chest. “An open war among vampires like that would have meant death for millions of humans. I tried to prevent it. But from what you say, it seems Iedolas has risen to power anyway. What happened? Where is Regis?”

Gladio shook his head. “No one knows.”

Ignis’ blind eyes went wide. “And Noctis? His son? What of him?” Panic rang clear in his tone, his expression so open that Gladio was too astonished to speak for a moment.

“I…” he faltered. “I don’t know. We don’t have anything to do with that family any more. They’re the reason we were excommunicated, and persecuted across all of Lucis…”

“I understand,” Ignis said, sounding anything but satisfied.

“You _are_ the sleeping soldier,” Crowe breathed, the soft puff of the flame extinguishing filling the silence.

“I’m aware of the stories,” Ignis said, turning to face her. “I’m also aware that the Speakers consider the story to be information from the future. Do you know the whole story?”

She blushed. “Yes,” she snorted defiantly.

“The sleeping soldier will be met by a hunter and a scholar,” Ignis intoned, perhaps saving her from embarrassment.

“No one told _me_ that,” Gladio huffed, looking sharply at Crowe.

“Why do you think my grandfather tried everything to make you stay?” she demanded.

He gave a longsuffering sigh and levered himself to his feet. “I hate Speakers.”

Ignis crossed unfalteringly to the chaise lounge where his daggers had been resting, and began to dress himself in silence.

“So what happens now?” Crowe asked, looking from Gladio to the vampire.

“I need a hunter and a scholar,” Ignis said, securing the first of his daggers to his belt and adjusting the black brocade jacket with gloved fingers. “I need help to save Lucis, perhaps the world, and defeat Iedolas.” The second dagger flew through the air as he strode away from his coffin, and settled itself into the scabbard at his waist.

Gladio didn’t move. “Why?” he breathed.

Ignis paused on the steps of the dais. “Because it is what the Queen would have wanted.” He made his way to the bottom of the steps and halted. “And we are all, in the end, slaves to our family’s wishes.”

Gladio coiled his whip. “You’ll help us kill Iedolas and save Lucis?” he asked, astonished.

Ignis nodded once, pacing in step beside Crowe as they joined Gladio. “Iedolas has to die. We three… we can destroy him.”

“First,” Gladio chuckled. “We gotta find a way out of here. We made a bit of a mess coming in…”

Ignis’ lips quirked into a wry smile. “Humans. Always so clumsy. I know a way,” he said, “But…” he grimaced. “My… my injuries are not yet healed. I… I am terribly weak. My eyes… the damage…”

“A vampire that can’t see in the dark?” Gladio scoffed. “Imagine that.”

“The irony is not lost on me,” Ignis muttered. “Listen, I will get you out of here if you let me take your arm.”

Gladio bristled.

“Or yours,” Ignis said, turning towards Crowe.

“Oh hell no, vampire,” Gladio said, stepping between them. “You stay right here where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Make sure you keep the other one on the path then,” Ignis snorted, raising his hand and gently placing it around Gladio’s huge bicep. “I’d hate for you to get distracted and lead us all into endless darkness.”

There were several layers of clothing between Gladio’s skin and the vampire’s touch, but it still chilled him to know that a creature which had lived long enough to master the art of blinking to that extent, and which was powerful enough to fight him, even _halfway_ recovered from some truly terrible injuries, was no more than half a pace behind him in the darkness.

They wound their way through the rubble of the collapsing undercity, Ignis describing the route, and Gladio taking it. Ignis remained on Gladio’s right while the hunter kept himself between the vampire and Crowe. Ignis didn’t speak much as they went, and appeared to be concentrating on not stumbling on the loose rubble underfoot.

The air shifted as they reached the surface, emerging in a quiet side street of Old Insomnia after a long and difficult climb. Ignis had tripped and stumbled more times than he was clearly comfortable with, and Gladio had come much closer to a vampire without killing it than he had ever hoped to do. Finding himself repeatedly nose to nose with a creature who could tear his throat out in a heartbeat was unnerving to say the least, but Ignis had just smiled his shy thanks whenever Gladio caught him, and followed them up into the still, empty night.

He closed his eyes and let go of Gladio, inhaling deeply. The way he stood there, drinking in the night was like a free-diver coming up for air. “Gods above,” he hissed. “I’ve missed this.”

“I thought you were asleep down there?” Crowe asked.

Ignis shook his head. “Most of us do not sleep, not truly. There was a degree of wakefulness, of awareness.”

“So, where do we –?” she began, but Ignis cut her off, his arm whipping out and pulling her back into the shadow.

“Dhampir,” he hissed, inhaling, scenting the air like a hunting dog.

“Where?” Gladio breathed.

Ignis nodded down the street. They knew about the dhampir and their savage bloodlust, their slender bodies, their minds honed and tortured until all they want is death in their fingers and between their fangs, hot blood and slowing heartbeats.

So when a small blond figure rounded the corner, hands in his pockets, scuffing his heels along the cobbles, looking thoroughly miserable, Gladio frowned. “ _That’s_ your dhampir?” he whispered at Ignis.

“Does it not look how you would expect? It certainly smells like one.”

“It… he…” Gladio looked from Ignis to the kid in the black tank top, lean arms bare and shining in the moonlight, skinny legs propelling him gracefully but slowly down the street towards them. “He looks like a kid, Ignis. Are you sure?”

Ignis took another deep inhale and added, “I can smell vampire on him too. Perhaps he’s part of a coven? It’s very faint though.”

Suddenly the ‘kid’ caught wind of them, and froze, eyes wide and blue as the sky on a summer afternoon. He stood there as Ignis stepped out into the street, and then he began to shake violently when he realised what Ignis was. His throat worked in terror, and then, to Gladio’s surprise, he dropped to one knee and bared his carotid in a gesture of utter and instant submission.

“I will not harm you,” Ignis said in a steady, even voice. “If you answer me truthfully. What are you?”

He was trembling so much he could hardly speak. “A d-dhampir, m-my lord…”

“You know who I am?” he asked, incredulous.

“N-No, please, forgive me, my lord, but I can tell… I mean… you m-must be at least a noble…”

“What are you doing out here alone?” Ignis asked, still standing a far way off from him.

Gladio watched with baited breath, keeping Crowe hidden in the shadows. If this was a trap, he didn’t want to get her involved.

“I… I know I shouldn’t be out… I just… It…” and he burst into tears.

Ignis paced over to him and sank down to kneel in front of him in a gesture of compassion that took Gladio’s breath away. Ignis reached uncertainly for the blond’s face and found his chin, tilting his face up to look at Ignis’ own. Tears rolled down the kid’s face and he shivered at the touch, letting out a soft whine, closing his eyes. “I have heard of dhampir raised in seclusion,” Ignis said as much to himself as to the kid. “You are alone, are you not?”

“I… M-My parents, I m-mean my c-coven, are… They…” He was incoherent as relief and terror raced each other through his body, curdling in an uneasy mixture his stomach.

“Shh,” Ignis crooned, stroking his cheekbone with a delicate thumb. “It’s alright.”

“Ignis,” Gladio finally barked, stepping out and making the kid fall over onto his backside in shock. “We don’t have time for this. Iedolas uses dhampir. This could be a trap.”

Ignis stood and held out his hand to the young blond on the floor. “On your feet,” he said, a hint of something else laced into his word, and the dhampir rose instantly. The tone of command evaporated at his next words. “Would you like to come with us?” he asked.

“What?” Gladio and the dhampir chorused, the hunter adding, “You can’t be serious?”

“I am perfectly serious. To leave a dhampir alone is a terrible thing. They need company. It’s cruel almost beyond belief. We can provide him with security, and he can share what he knows of his kind, which will help us to defeat Iedolas in the long run.”

“D-Defeat… Iedolas?” the dhampir stuttered. “You mean it?”

Ignis frowned. “Of course.”

“I’m in,” he said immediately. “Whatever I can do to help. I’m in.”

“Alright then,” Ignis smiled. “Come on, let us find Noctis and see what we can do about finding Regis. When we know what’s happened to them, we can begin to plan Iedolas’ defeat. There are still noble houses, the Nox Fleurets, the Highwinds, and one or two others, who may be able to assist us. But first, I must heal.”

“How… how will you do that?” Crowe asked hesitantly as they all stood there in the side street, moonlight washing over them.

“I need to feed,” Ignis said.

Gladio growled audibly.

“Not from a human,” he said. “I am not a pureblood like the king. I am only a noble vampire. My blood is somewhat muddied. A pureblood, like Noctis, can heal me.”

“Why didn’t he do that when you got hurt first time round?” Gladio asked.

Ignis sighed. “It was chaos. The attempt on his life, the death of the Queen, Regis’ insanity… there was no time. Noctis was badly hurt himself, and taken by the Nox Fleurets to be healed. I… I remained behind to stop the king and… I was hurt. I had no choice but to retreat to the undercity. I would have woken in around a decade. I still have a lot of healing to do.” He turned and listened for Gladio’s heavy breathing. “Come, take me to the citadel and we shall see if we can find the prince.”

The dhampir didn’t follow them immediately. Ignis halted and turned to look half over his shoulder. “What is your name?” he asked.

“Prompto,” he mumbled. “Prompto Argentum.”

“Prompto Argentum,” Ignis intoned. “Will you come with us?”

“You want a _dhampir_ to follow you to the citadel?” he blurted.

“You will be under my protection. No one will lay a finger on you. I give you my word.” And he bowed his head, exposing his neck slightly at the dhampir.

Prompto blushed furiously and dropped to one knee again at the gesture. “My lord, thank you.”

“It’s just Ignis,” he sighed. “Come.”

Together the four of them wound their way through the deserted streets of Insomnia towards the old palace, where it was known that the vampire Prince of Lucis still lived in seclusion. In an uneasy, unspoken truce, he didn’t bother the citizens, and they left the castle alone.

Deep within the walls, way down in the heart of the castle, a black haired, white skinned vampire lay sleeping on a stone sarcophagus. Thin, and infinitely sad around the eyes, he lay there, arms crossed over his chest, unbreathing, heart still and cold. He had lost everything, but above all he had lost his best friend. No one knew what had become of Ignis Scientia after the king’s breakdown, and no one had been able to trace him.

And yet, just when Noctis had given up all hope, he felt the presence of an old one growing nearer. And… and something else, bright and warm as a flame, with the scent as sweet as a flower, drawing closer to him.

In the dark vagueness of his stupor, he felt a hand on his chest and heard a voice that could not have been there.

“Noctis.”

_Ignis._

“Noctis, rise. I need you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis wakes, there’s some feeding, and Gladio has a small revelation about Ignis that repulses him…

Ignis’ heart pounded so hard he could feel his tongue pulsing. Noctis lay on the slab of his sarcophagus, unmoving. His heart was cold and almost silent in his chest, by contrast beating so slowly that even Ignis couldn’t detect it. “Noctis,” he hissed, fingers gripping his cold skin. “My prince, you need to rise… please…”

Through the vague blur of his ruined vision, better than it had been before his self-inflicted slumber, but still terrible, he saw the prince’s lips part, heard the death-rattle hiss as he tried to suck in breath.

“Why aren’t you waking? Where is everyone? And when was the last time you fed?” he muttered.

“Ig?” the prince croaked.

Standing way on the other side of the chamber, the Prompto gasped, transfixed as Noctis’ eyes fluttered open. Deep as polished sapphires, they took in Ignis’ scars and grew wide with fear. He reached a glacially white hand up to Ignis’ sharp face and cupped his jaw tenderly.

The sight of the pureblood’s elegant hand connecting with Ignis’ cheek made Prompto whine and shudder. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him like that. In fact, he couldn’t remember _ever_ being touched like that. Well, before Ignis had done it that evening. But he hadn’t really _meant_ it. Prompto was only a dhampir after all. And nobody ever loves a dhampir. They’re just machines for war. Cannon-fodder. Expendable.

Ignis sighed a shivering breath as Noctis stirred, wakefulness dawning on him.

“What happened to you?” Noctis asked, voice barely audible. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“Your father,” Ignis breathed. “He used consecrated weapons. His mace… the silver mace… holy water… I…”

“Dad?” Noct was astonished. “No, he’d never hurt you. He loves you like a son,” he protested, voice still little more than a harsh scraping in his throat. “I didn’t want to believe it…” He looked away, closing his eyes again. “Luna told me, but…”

“He was… _consumed_ by his grief. King Regis was not himself.”

“Wait, so where have you been?” Noctis demanded, struggling upright, shrugging off the heavy stupor of his sleep. “Ignis,” he choked, and threw his arms around him, weeping. “I looked _everywhere_ for you. But you vanished,” he sobbed into his neck.

“I went to the undercity,” he said, holding Noctis gently.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” Noctis suddenly spat, shoving Ignis away and trying to stand. Except he was too weak, and his knees folded underneath him.

Ignis caught him and set him back on the sarcophagus, his head hanging low. “I was too weak, Noct. I had to rest. It was all set up for just such an emergency, for you or for me, or Lady Lunafreya… I had to use human blood though. If I’d used pureblood, someone else would have had to have known about it. That’s why I’m not healing.” He paused a moment, letting Noct’s sluggish brain catch up. “I watched the Nox Fleurets get you to safety and stayed behind to keep the King from rampaging through the city, tearing it to pieces looking for Iedolas’ dhampir assassins…” He sighed, releasing Noctis once he was sure the prince was not going to collapse. “But I’m not a pureblood, Noct. I had no hope of facing your father and surviving. I fought him as long as I could, but then he blinked and vanished, and I couldn’t keep up with him. I have no idea where he went. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I left you alone.”

Noctis softened, reaching up to stroke his delicate fingertips across Ignis’ forehead. He traced the scars, Ignis’ eyelids fluttering under the touch, before he hissed, “No.”

“No?”

“I’m sorry. I could have stopped him.”

“Noctis, they had just killed your mother…” Ignis snarled, though it was plain his anger was not directed at the prince. “And you were gravely wounded. No, there was nothing you could have done differently. And as much as I loathe Ravus, I am grateful he and Luna took care of you.” He stared around at the echoing vault for a moment, listening if not seeing. “Where is everyone?”

“I sent them all away,” Noctis murmured. “When no one could find you, I sent the other nobles away. It’s not like there were many of us here anyway,” he added dejectedly. “Luna and Ravus have looked in on me…”

“But… Who has been running things in your father’s absence? Surely you haven’t allowed the Nox Fleurets to take over your father’s kingdom?” The advisor’s astonishment rang through his words like a church bell.

Gladio stood, dumbfounded, by the display he had just witnessed. Vampires were cold, unfeeling, ruthless. They didn’t _embrace_ each other, they didn’t show emotion, and if they did, they certainly didn’t _cry_. Ignis looked positively broken as the prince described the months of searching, the despair when no one knew where he’d gone, the grief when he assumed the rumours were true and that his father _had_ killed Ignis.

The pureblood prince sighed, and in a heartbeat, Prompto saw the shadows under his eyes for the first time, saw the weight, invisible and intangible to others, resting on his slim shoulders. The dhampir felt the tug to comfort him, stronger than he’d felt it for anyone. Since escaping the laboratories where Iedolas and Verstael were effectively farming and breeding his kind, he had spent half his time on the streets, roaming alone, and the other half with a vampire couple who would rather have had nothing at all to do with the rogue dhampir.

But _this_ was no ordinary vampire. He was one of the rarest, highest ranking of their kind: a pureblood. So few remained that Prompto hadn’t known why Iedolas was worried about creating armies of dhampir to fight them, but standing in Noctis’ presence, even though the prince was thin, weak, half starved, and consumed by guilt and grief, he felt the power of a pureblood, and cowered away from offering comfort. It was not his place.

The two vampires stood in low conversation for a while, before Prompto felt eyes on him. Twitching, he jerked to attention to find Ignis, Noctis, and Gladio all staring at him. He swallowed thickly. “Um…” he faltered. “I’m sorry… I wasn’t listening…” He readied himself for their combined anger, but it never came.

To his immense surprise, Noctis, the Royal pureblood, whickered a low, friendly laugh. “What’s you’re name?” he asked. He had one hand braced on the sarcophagus behind him, but somehow he still looked strong, quiet, and, to Prompto’s further surprise, sweet.

“Pr-Prompto,” he stuttered, adding a quick, “Highness,” afterwards.

“Just call me Noctis, like everyone else,” he smiled. “Nice to meet you.” He inhaled deeply, and Gladio got the distinct impression he was sniffing the air like a hound. “You’re… I… I don’t recognise your scent…”

“I… I’ve never been here before, if that’s what you mean...”

Again Noctis laughed. “No. What are you?” he asked with all the bluntness of royalty.

“What? Oh, I… I’m a dhampir, I guess…” he blushed.

Noctis stared at him, and then turned to Ignis, “A dhampir? But I thought Iedolas was the only one who kept dhampir?”

Prompto shuddered at the mention of the other pureblood’s name, and again at the word ‘kept’.

Ignis sighed. “We found him this evening, shortly after we left the undercity.”

“Where do you come from?” Noct asked, turning to face Prompto.

Prompto swallowed and croaked something about near the river gorge in the middle of insomnia. “My _coven_ are only common vampires. They need the darkness to move around, so they use the gorge and the tunnels there…”

“I see,” Noct said. “What are you doing here with Ignis then?”

“He… I…” Prompto faltered, staring hopelessly at the noble to help him out.

“I invited him to join us,” Ignis said. “In return for our protection, he will tell us what he knows of Iedolas and the dhampir he keeps.”

“So he’s staying, right?” Noct grinned.

“Looks that way,” Ignis smiled. He gave a grunt of pain, and brought his elegant fingers to touch his temple, as though pressing the pain of a headache away.

The prince turned to Ignis and said sharply, “Look, you need to feed. You need to heal. I hope it hasn’t been too long… You should have had pureblood to heal you, not human…”

Gladio shuddered audibly in disgust, and though Ignis cocked his ear towards him, he didn’t comment. He turned instead to Noctis and shook his head. “I’m not feeding from you until you’ve had something yourself.” When Noctis made a noise of disgust that wasn’t far off the one Gladio had made, they all looked at him, Gladio especially.

“Spoiled brat doesn’t wanna eat his veggies?” he hissed under his breath, making Prompto hold his own. Talking to a pureblood like that was _inviting_ them to rip your throat out with their fangs.

Ignis hissed at him, but Noctis only sighed. “Come on.”

Prompto felt his stomach twist at the thought of feeding, and the kind of blood the royalty must have access to made his eyes water, but he bit his lip and forced the bloodlust to die down again. The thought of watching the prince feed, of seeing him sink his beautiful canines into soft flesh, the blossoming blood in the air… He had whined before he even realised, and flushed a violent crimson when he found Noctis and Ignis both staring at him. “Oh gods, I’m sorry,” he yipped.

Again, that hoarse sound fluttered in Noct’s chest. “You hungry?” he asked, sounding almost playful behind the weariness. “Wanna come share?”

Prompto couldn’t believe how relaxed the pureblood was being, how informal. He stood there stupidly, blinking and barely breathing, until Ignis cleared his throat.

“Is there a problem?” the blinded noble asked pointedly.

“Wha-? Uh, no, of course not… Um…” Prompto’s blush deepened to a violent shade of red. “I’m sorry. I’ve just… not been… you know… I’m to used to being around…” And then as his cheeks reached critical temperature, he added dejectedly, “Oh just kill me now. I’m sorry.”

Noct’s laugh rang though the high vault, and Gladio, who had been torn between picking at his nails with a short dagger – incidentally the same one he’d stabbed Ignis with earlier that night – and furtively watching the vampires. His thoughts oscillated between wondering if he could stake then all and still leave the dark vault of the citadel fortress, and thinking that his father may have been right after all to try and forge the treaty between humans and vampires, uniting against Ieodolas to end his rein of terror.

In the end, it was the way the pureblood treated the dhampir that sold him. Not that he was in any way certain of the kid, but he’d clearly had a hell of a life. He knew dhampir were the amongst shortest lived of all the vampires, with their lifespan matching that of a human. Only the ghouls lived shorter lives, corrupted and drained of humanity by the blood of common vampires.

The prince turned and walked slowly from the chamber, his footsteps halting and weak. Ignis was at his side, apparently at ease in the darkness, but when Gladio barked, “Oi, what about us? I’m not keen to be part of dinner, and it’s hardly a good spectator sport for humans…”

Ignis quirked his Cupid’s bow lips at that, but let the prince decide what to do with him.

“Whatever. You can come with, but if you don’t come, you can wait outside in the courtyard. If Ravus sees you, he might try and kill you though.” He cast a look at the scars on his face and the size of his shoulders, and added, “You’re strong, and pretty, but that’s not going to stop him.”

Gladio snorted and waved at Noctis to lead on. The way Prompto’s eyes went wide and his jaw slackened made Gladio laugh all over again. “They think they’re dog’s bollocks, but really, they’re just fancy leeches.” His comment earned him another hiss from Ignis, but the prince only chuckled. He didn’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact he seemed to find it refreshing.

Through endless dark corridors, the four of them walked in silence. Gladio’s sharp amber eyes couldn’t help but notice how Ignis walked half a pace closer to the prince than would have been necessary for someone who could see, and he was surprised to find myself feeling sorry for the noble vampire. His sour tone floated back to him as he recalled the way he’d snorted, “ _The irony is not lost on me_.” Behind the glaze of milky blindness, Gladio thought he saw a hint of green in his irises, like the sea on a cloudy day. He found himself wondering what Ignis had looked like before those terrible scars had been scraped across his face. The injuries he must have suffered made Gladio’s heart beat cold for a few paces. And the prince’s father had done that to him? In grief? He’d heard about the death of the vampire queen, Aulea, bright, fair and beautiful, but he’d paid it no mind, having been in Cleigne on a hunt at the time.

They came, almost before Gladio was aware of it, to a door leading to a long corridor. Ignis turned his ear to listen and then asked, “How many of the guest rooms are occupied? I can’t hear many…”

Noctis sighed. “I asked most of them to leave. It’s not like we needed the blood with so few of us here.”

“But Noctis, they have been a part of the workings of the citadel for centuries! You cast them out with no income? Noctis…”

“Relax, would you?” Noctis grumbled. “They’re still on our books. I pay them to keep me informed of vampire movements in the city instead.”

“Noct,” Ignis admonished. “That’s far more dangerous than their lives here.”

 “It’s about as dangerous as having me feeding from them, so...” The prince shrugged and knocked on a nondescript door at the far end of the corridor. Through the all-pervasive, dim light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, Gladio watched as the prince retreated to a respectful distance from the door and waited with a sullen expression on his pretty face.

A voice called from within, and asked who it was.

“It’s Noctis,”  the prince muttered.

The door opened and a figure stood illuminated in candlelight from inside. “My prince,” said a delicate, soprano voice, the figure in a long blue dress curtsying low. “It is an honour.”

“Hardly,” he scoffed. “Listen, Elizabeth, I’m sorry, but I need to feed.”

“Of course. I shall just prepare myself,” she said, stepping back and waving them all inside. Reluctantly, Gladio too crossed the threshold and stood awkwardly by the door, as far from any of the action as possible. She crossed to a wardrobe and drew out a plain grey shift, more like a sleeping garment than a dress, and disappeared into a side room while Noct paced nervously.

Gladio yawned, the noise conspicuous in such a silent room.

“We should have offered you a room,” Noctis sighed, turning to look at him.

“What, so you can come slit my throat in the night and drain me dry, I think I’ll pass, _highness_ ,” Gladio retorted, swishing his cloak back and moving his hands to his hips.

Noct’s only response was to roll his eyes, but after another few moments, he turned back, blue eyes now searing as even regarded him with real intent.

Prompto took a step or six away from Gladio, as though he was about to be sucked into a wormhole, and even Gladio swallowed nervously. “That crest,” Noctis said, his eyes on the now-exposed breast of his jacket beneath. “You didn’t say you were an Amicitia.”

“I never got to introduce myself,” he snapped. “Not that it’s any business of yours.”

But Noct’s blue gaze had shifted to Ignis, who was standing still as a monolith near the shuttered window. A single candle flame cast shifting light onto his face, and for a moment, Gladio’s heart skipped a beat or two as he saw the noble’s face. For an instant, he saw the sculpted beauty beneath the angry scars, the high cheekbones under the ragged skin, the soft lips unmarred, the eyes softly closed, and a strange heat twisted in his gut. _That’s what they do_ , he scolded himself. T _hey’re vampires. They draw you in and entrance you with their beauty_. And by all the gods, old and new, he _was_ beautiful.

It struck Gladio like a barrelling warhorse. One moment he was loathing them for everything they represented and everything they had taken from him, and the next he was unable to breathe in the face of Ignis’ beauty. He shook his head, attempting to break the spell. He found that Noctis was still watching him. When the prince saw the hunter’s attention returning to him, he smirked. “You’re not the first to fall for my Ignis you know?”

“Your Ignis?” Gladio sputtered.

Ignis only quirked his lips and turned away.

The woman re-entered, and crossed to sit passively on the edge of bed.

All the sass seemed to drain out of the prince and his face went a shade or two paler, if that was even possible. His reluctance to drink was direct opposite of the dhampir, who was having real and obvious trouble trying to contain his bloodlust. His lip was puffy from where he’d sunk his incisors into it in an attempt to quell the urges. Gladio regarded him with disgust while the prince approached the bed.

To his surprise, he stopped just shy of her neck and called out to Ignis. “Will you…?”

His unfinished question was apparently crystal clear to Ignis, who stepped over, striding past Gladio with barely an inch of room to spare. Gladio was forced to reel back a pace, inhaling, about to spit out a curse, but when he caught the soft scent that rose from the vampire, subtler than cologne and far less cloying, he stopped dead.

Untroubled, apparently oblivious, Ignis approached the prince and took his outstretched hand, working his way up the prince’s arm to find his shoulders. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He looked to the woman who was eagerly bearing her throat to him, and added, “You?”

“Of course, my prince,” she smiled. A light burned in her eyes, like she couldn’t wait to have him sink his teeth into her neck. It made Gladio sick to think of it.

With a deep intake of breath, like he was going to the gallows, Noctis parted his lips, took her shoulders in his delicate hands, and lowered his face to her neck. The moment his teeth pierced the skin, she cried out, her face showing pain only briefly before Noct’s powerful venom kicked in and she began to bliss out.

Noctis however, had been at the vein for mere seconds when he pulled back, retching and heaving. Blood spattered the floor as he coughed. Ignis, with a strength that surprised Gladio for someone so lean, took the back of the prince’s head in his palm and forced him back to the vein. “You can do it. You need to feed.”

Noctis swallowed the blood down, but repeatedly retched, even breaking off to choke and cough while Ignis held him firmly until the fit had passed.

Prompto was beside himself with the smell of blood in the air, the sight of it on the flagstone floor. His whole body shook as he watched Noctis feeding, but he never made a move to interfere.

Presently Noctis pulled back, shaking his head, swallowing like he was trying to choke down tar, and waved his hand at Ignis. “No more. I can’t drink any more, Iggy.”

“Alright,” Ignis smiled reassuringly, rubbing circles between Noct’s shoulder blades, while the pureblood looked like he was fighting to keep from throwing up.

“Vampire that can’t hold his blood,” Gladio smirked. “That’s gotta be a new one…”

Ignis’ lips parted in a silent and feral snarl, and Gladio was instantly reminded of a mother wolf. “Noctis has a condition that is rare among our kind, which makes it hard to process blood,” Ignis snapped. “Short of injecting it directly into his veins, there is little we can do to avoid the necessity of feeding.”

Noctis wiped his mouth on a cloth which Elizabeth had handed him, clearly intimately familiar with the procedure. She turned her glazed her eyes on Gladio, but quickly realised, even in her dazed state, that he was not in the market for fresh blood straight from the vein. When she saw Prompto’s eyes blazing, however, she turned back to the prince. “You did not take so much that there’s none for your friend there, highness. He looks famished…”

Prompto took an uncertain step forward before he was able to stop himself, but the prince smiled. “You thank you can control yourself, dhampir?”

Prompto let out a high whine and stared at Ignis. He knew the order of things: a dhampir did not feed before a noble. He opened his mouth to speak but all that left him was another whimper. He began to shake.

Noctis, apparently recovered from his bout of retching, stretched out a pale hand to the dhampir. “Come on,” he murmured. “Come here.” His voice was laced with heavy suggestion, and even Gladio felt the pull to obey. But while Gladio only swayed where he stood, the little dhampir found his feet moving towards the pureblood. His eyes, Gladio noted, were burning scarlet now instead of blue, and they were locked on the oozing wound on Elizabeth’s neck.

When he drew level with Ignis though, the spell seemed to shatter. He froze like a rabbit and then took half a step back, shivering and whining, eyes enormous with fear.

“Prompto,” Ignis said. “It’s alright. You may feed, providing you can control yourself.”

“B-But,” he stammered, bowing his head and exposing his neck. “You… The prince…” He didn’t seem to know what he was trying to say, panicked, and sank, shivering, to one knee, neck unprotected and vulnerable again.

Gladio watched as the prince and his advisor exchanged a look. Yet again, he was taken aback by their tenderness, by their compassion.

Noctis padded silently over to where Prompto cowered and cringed, and dropped to a crouch beside him. “Prompto,” he smiled, that strange intonation in his voice again. This time it made the word resonate in Gladio’s chest like a great bronze bell. “Prompto, it’s alright,” he said. “May I touch you?”

The dhampir cried out, a wordless plea for contact, for relief, and Noctis responded instantly. His hands fell on Prompto’s skinny shoulders, palms flat as he traced his way up to Prompto’s pretty, freckled, if frightened, face. As his thumbs drew soft lines over Prompto’s cheeks, a great shiver passed up the dhampir’s spine. Gladio gasped at the expression on his face: he regarded Noctis with utter and unquestioning adoration.

The prince’s lips twitched up in the corners and his dark blue eyes twinkled. “That’s better,” he said. His voice now had a strange gruffness to it, like he needed to clear his throat. “Come on, come and feed. You look half starved.”

“Don’t let me hurt her,” Prompto gushed, his voice thin and fragile as frozen cobwebs on winter grass.

“I won’t,” he reassured him, helping Prompto to his feet.

The dhampir still trembled and his eyes still glowed red, but as Noctis cupped his angular face in his right hand and stared deep into his eyes, something seemed to shift in the room. Gladio felt less tense, Ignis sighed, and Elizabeth let out a half-dazed moan of pleasure. The effect it had on Prompto though made Gladio’s jaw slacken.

Prompto nuzzled into the touch like he’d never been held by anyone in his whole life. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks and splashed into the material of his black jacket. With puffy lips parted slightly, and red eyes sparkling with tears he breathed the prince’s name like a prayer. “Noctis.”

No, not like a prayer, Gladio realised, like a _lover_.

Ignis seemed to taste something on the air, and stiffened. “Noct,” he warned, taking half a step towards him.

A low table stood in his path and Gladio stepped forwards. “Watch it,” he growled. He hadn’t realised that he’d actually taken hold of the vampire’s arm until Ignis turned his face slowly down, eyes closed, to where Gladio’s rough hands clenched around the fabric of his black coat. “Can’t have you tripping over a table and spoiling that graceful track record of yours, can we?” he snarled, letting go and stepping backwards, stunned by his actions.

If Ignis’ eyes had been open, he would have held Gladio’s gaze, but even without the sight of those clouded, damaged irises, Gladio was transfixed. “My thanks,” was all Ignis said, but Gladio’s heartbeat clanged in his chest. Ignis turned back to Noctis but paused, seemingly uncertain. “Noct, what are you doing?”

For answer, he heard Noctis lead Prompto the final few paces across the room, and give him one last gesture of affection. Ignis couldn’t see the way Noct’s fingers worked through the bright golden hair, nor the way Prompto moved beneath the touch, shivering and closing his eyes. “You like that?” Noct asked gently.

Prompto hummed blissfully, nodding with a slow, dreamy motion.

“Open your eyes for me,” Noctis said. It was not a question, and Prompto obeyed. When he did, his eyes had returned to the pale blue of a summer sky at dawn. “Come,” Noctis smiled.

He reached for Elizabeth’s neck, cradling her head in his other hand while steering Prompto over. The way he manoeuvred the dhampir made it seem like it was the dhampir’s first time or something.

Prompto’s eyes flared red, his mouth opened and he allowed Noctis to steer him to the vein. With one final glance up at Noctis, he looked like he had been about to speak, to plead with the prince, but Noctis only smiled. “I won’t let you hurt her.”

With the promise in the prince’s words, Prompto sank his teeth into her neck, exactly over the marks the prince had made. The more he drank, the wilder his groans became. Fingers clutched at her, his back caved slowly inwards, his whole body growing taut as her blood filled him.

“Noct,” Ignis rumbled after a while.

“He’s got this,” Noctis shot back.

“Noct, her heartbeat…”

“I can hear it too,” he snarled petulantly. But he laid a hand on Prompto’s back and murmured, “Prompto… Prom, it’s time to stop.”

“Highness, dhampir bloodlust is almost legendary… He may not be able to stop…”

Noctis knelt beside the dhampir and ran his fingers through his thick hair. “ _Prompto_.” This time the command made the air in the room snap. _Obey_.

And to everyone’s evident surprise, the soft sucking of the dhampir’s lips on her neck ceased. Tenderly, though the sight of it still turned Gladio’s stomach, the dhampir began to lick at her skin, cleaning her wounds, lapping up the slowly welling blood. His hands smoothed her hair while she leaned heavily against Noctis, deep bliss etched into her expression.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, working his tongue over her again. “I’m sorry I took more than I should have done.”

“Ignis, would you fetch a dressing?” Noct asked, but Ignis hesitated.

“Where… Where are they kept?” His voice was soft and, to Gladio’s surprise, his eyes were open. Lids hanging halfway over the misty irises, those eyes had a dreamy quality that lent a softness, a gentleness, to the hard lines of his face that made Gladio’s gut twist oddly.

“In the bathroom cabinet usually,” Noct replied, still focused on watching Prompto’s tender tongue wipe away the blood as it beaded sluggishly on the surface. He looked mesmerised by the sight.

Gladio seemed to be the only one not in a trance. Even Ignis was breathing deeply. “What’s going on?” Gladio eventually snapped. “Why are you all behaving like you’ve been smoking something? What’s the matter with you?”

“I…” Ignis murmured, “I believe I remember reading about the effects dhampir can have on others…” His voice was distant and empty. “They have the ability to influence the emotions of others somewhat. It comes from the fact that they are created with pureblood, and that is a talent which, as you have already witnessed tonight, is peculiar to Noct’s kind.” Suddenly he blinked and inhaled sharply. “Noct,” he said, wrenching free of the fog in his mind. “I can’t see well enough to find them. I’m sorry. You’ll have to go.”

Gladio surprised himself by grumbling, “I’ll go.” Stumping out of the room and through the only other doorway, Gladio stared as he came up short in front of his own reflection in the mirror. He was covered in nine kinds of filth from the undercity, with shadows hanging heavy beneath his eyes, and dried blood spattered up one cheek from his fight with Ignis. Whose it was, he wasn’t sure, but before he began to rummage around in her cupboards, he ran some cold water in the sink and cleaned himself up as best he could. No wonder Ignis had been repulsed by him. He stank. By the end of his make-do-and-mend wash, he thought he might even look vaguely presentable.

“Why do you even care, Amicitia?” he snarled. But he knew why, and the knowledge made his belly go sour.

He turned and moved back to the bedroom to find everything exactly as he’d left it. Ignis’ ears followed his progress though, and as Gladio handed the dressing to Noctis, Ignis remarked, “You smell better already.”

Gladio cursed himself for the way his heart leapt. Like he needed Ignis’ approval. He snarled something vague back at him, which drew a slight chuckle from the vampire.

Prompto was staring at the cut, still licking it until the dressing could be pressed gently over the wounds. Noctis led Elizabeth to the bed and saw her safely tucked up beneath layers of warm blankets.

In the quiet stillness of the room, with the figure of Elizabeth sleeping softly on the bed, Prompto standing in a daze, gazing at Noctis like he was the sun itself, Ignis brought his fingertips to the bridge of his nose.

Noctis turned to him and asked, “So, what now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, let me know by punching kudos or leaving a comment. Come find me @expectogladiolus on Tumblr if you want to chat more about ideas for this - I've had some really good ideas for darling dhampir Prompto, I can tell you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading to the end! Kudos and comments always very much appreciated, but thanks for sticking with it so far! Come find me on Tumblr at @expectogladiolus if you have ideas or want to chat :D


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